Trump Was More Than Just a Liar—He Was a Lie. As Soon as He Accepted the Fraud That He Was Actually in Charge
"No Malibu hausfrau will ever again feel like she is in the French Resistance"
This is an excerpt. The full, 5000-word, text at the source. Curtis Yarvin is a blogger who popularized the term “taking the red pill” that he borrowed from The Matrix.
Though I did not put this in writing, not from responsibility but just out of cowardice, I did go around telling people IRL that my preferred outcome was “it looks like Trump wins, then it looks like Biden steals it from him.”
Some mistook this for an “accelerationist” stance. It was only Machiavellian. I would also tell Trumpists that I was “so pro-Trump, I wrap all the way around to pro-Biden.” This did not raise many hackles and was also quite true.
It is useless to speculate on the details of a Philadelphia election. One need only say the words, “Philadelphia election,” and anyone on or near the grave of Mark Twain will experience a little earthquake. Has Philadelphia ever had a free and fair election? (This country, for what it is, takes itself too seriously. Have you ever considered the possibility that America has always been a joke? I’m sure most historians have.)
Ultimately, I am glad Trump lost, because Trump was more than just a liar—he was a lie. As soon as he accepted the fraud that he was actually in charge of the government, he became complicit in a fraud against his own supporters. They could never understand why he didn’t “do something” about this, that, or the other thing.
He could have told them why; he could have even worked to change that. He was given the choice between looking and feeling important, and realizing and revealing that he wasn’t important. He chose as he did. Given that he did, his defeat at the hands of the ballot wizards of the Midwest may have been legal injustice—but it was divine justice.
Yet, like many a flawed human instrument of the divine, what he accomplished was more than he himself conceived. He did nothing to “drain the swamp.” In fact he filled it. And left it flooded—which made it (a) more visible, and (b) poised to dry up horribly.
Accelerationists who voted for China Joe will be disappointed. Nothing will speed up. All the gas in the regime’s tank is coming from Trump. As soon as Trump is out, the panzer death sportscar custom-built to guzzle his pure octane will sputter to a crawl.
Once the Trump administration is over, no one has anything to fear or hate. No threat could ever be as exciting as the racist rapist in the White House. No Malibu hausfrau will ever again feel like she is in the French Resistance. After Prohibition, breweries could still sell nonalcoholic beer. This is journalism after Trump.
Why was I pro-Biden? Because I longed to see my enemies cast out into the cold, uncaring wind of poverty and despair. Why were you pro-Trump? Because you loved seeing your enemies grow huge and fat and hard? I like to win. I hate to get owned. How about you, my based friend?
By March or April, America’s ruling class will feel like Hunter Biden on a Tuesday morning. Hunter reflects. He knows he left his pipe somewhere. He’s not sure where. What he knows is that this world, which as recently as mimosa brunch on Sunday was still burning with the rainbow fire of a hundred suns exploding in H-bomb supernova pornstar orgasms while galaxies collide, is an ugly, boring place. A sterile promontory. A foul and pestilent congregation of vapors… also, something sticky is stuck to his ass. He’ll get to it in a minute… oh, man…
For four years, the regime is stuck with a spokesmodel who combines the charisma of Leonid Brezhnev with the probity of Willie Brown. China Joe is getting no younger. His circuits already wrestle visibly with every solar flare. He did bring a backup unit, who has the charisma of Linda Blair and was once the protegée of Willie Brown. Is God supposed to hand us something better?
The new strategic landscape
If this administration was not perfect enough, it started even before the election with a clumsy iron fist on the Internet. Next the election itself was fisted. Now, calls for lists of enemies abound. Feel the power of the dark side! Some of my best friends are very, very afraid.
They shouldn’t be. Yes, revolution’s iron fist is terrible. But revolution takes more than evil, smarmy, corrupt bureaucrats. It takes energy. It takes passion.
Those who bet on this passion will soon discover that not much happens when they press the pedal, and the next gas station is four years ahead. The passionate fringe may even get mad at the corrupt bureaucrats. This will be amazing entertainment and should do wonders for Portland popcorn futures. It will not lead to American gulags.
Trump America, meanwhile, is on full bed-rest with an epic rear fistula. These poor, innocent people thought they were playing a game, with rules. Until well into spring, every wipe will remind them what a red state is. Without wishing pain on anyone, pain has a purpose. Pain is the body notifying the brain of a danger that was not averted. “The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved.”
And indeed their future and the future of their posterity is not consigned, as they think, to the democratic rule of law, but rather to a ruthless, oligarchic regime and its morally-decayed ruling class, which hates them with the passion of a crackhead for crack, and is more than happy to burn even its own interests for any quick hit of sadistic power thinly dressed as justice. To any people in this dire, servile position, action is essential, anesthesia is poison, and pain is a holy gift from God.
Yet the grace of this situation is that red America has a long-term problem, but not a short-term problem. There is some finite time to get it right. Demographically, it will be slightly harder to repeat 2016 in 2024. There is probably also some kind of Moore’s law of ballot-farming technology. But hardest of all by far will be to get it right this time. Four years may not even be enough time to make a proper plan.
Beyond its own suicidal tendencies, blue America has no long-term problem. It does have a short-term problem. Its product sucks. Its product, beyond China Joe himself, is pure pompous smugness. As you can see by looking at his “rallies,” not even the dogs will eat it. And that’s before he was elected! The message was fresh… 50 years ago…
People will always buy this product, because it ships with power. Since 2016, it had been easy to contrast pure smugness with Trump, and market it as holy water. Now, it isn’t. The product does not really need to sell, but the people who sell the product really need to sell it. So China Joe’s presidency will be absolute hell on the journalism industry, which will either starve or teach its regulars to have a good time on O’Doul’s.
Red America’s story, however, gets much simpler and easier to sell. The identities of the overdog and the underdog, oddly tangled for four years by the aborted, farcical, incompetent Trump revolution, straighten out again and have never been clearer. Nature is healing. The nobles are back in power. The peasants are back to the fields. They will pound their swords into plowshares. An inspector will stop by every month, to check for unsafe, dangerously-oversharpened plows…
One unremarked-on fact about Generation Z, and to some extent even Generation Y, is that they grew up on dystopian fiction. The methods of the Orwellian state are now the stuff of cliche. These tropes were even used against Trump, though they hardly fit. From here on till the end, they will fit like a glove. “Never interrupt your enemy,” as Napoleon said, “while he is making a mistake.”
Appendix: some constructive criticism
I hate to suggest public policy. But the tone of this post, though optimistic, is so mean-spirited that I have to provide one positive suggestion, which could actually be taken. Again, if you’re worried that this suggestion will actually be followed, you needn’t be.
If anyone in the Trump administration is listening, there is exactly one useful thing you can do now. The President has exactly one unilateral power which is dangerous to the regime: the power to declassify. This power can be trivially slowed to zero by the bureaucratic process, which is what happened when he tried to use it normally.
Instead, the President can order the US Marshals to seize and publish the documents. Which documents? All the documents—not just those about his specific beefs (though certainly those as well).
Except for weapons blueprints, America has no real secrets. Washington has plenty of real secrets, though. The President, even as a “lame duck,” retains every legal right to publish every single one, without process or delay.
No harm will come to America, for instance, by publishing all State Department cable traffic. The whole archive. All of it. Plenty of harm will come to the State Department. There is not a single file at CIA whose publication would harm America. There are many—some quite old—which would harm our government.
As for individuals named in documents, are the enemies of the people allergic to the power of personal destruction? It sucks, of course. But nobody ever had to get involved with the “intelligence community.” And time, alas, is short. And excuses, frankly, suck.
(And while you’re at it, Mr. President, bring the troops home—not just from Syria and Afghanistan, also from Germany and Japan. Leave your successor with American boots only on American soil. China Joe could invade the world right back again. But will he? Now, imagine if you’d conducted the last four years in this spirit.)
Source: Gray Mirror